Nausea
by Ruingaraf
Summary: Edward gains new respect for the Colonel and Lieutenant after hearing the horrors of Ishbal. A bit of Parental!RoyEd, Mangaverse, spoilers for Ishbal chapters.


"Nausea"

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Hagane no Renkenjutsushi

Universe: Manga

Rating: T

Pairing: Parental!RoyEd-ish

Words: 785

Summary: Edward gains new respect for the Colonel and Lieutenant after hearing the horrors of Ishbal.

Notes: Do you have any idea how fun it is to just get into Ed's character and RANT? It's very stress-relieving, you should try it. Story partially inspired by the MMV "We Are Responsible", found on Youtube.

* * *

I've done it.

I know all about the Ishbal war.

Sad thing is, I'm positive that I would have been happier _not_ knowing. But as much as I want to forget all the horrible things I've heard, I can't. And I really, really wish I could.

Genocide. Do you know what that word means? It means the act of killing an entire _race_. There's a _word_, just for that. Does that give you any idea of how fucked-up a world we live in? If there's a word for it, it means that it exists in reasonable enough quantity to give it a name. We have a word for cat, because there are lots of cats. We also have a word for war, because there have been a lot of wars through all of history. I know that, and I can accept it. But we don't have a name for, say, an orange cat, and there are plenty of those in the world. An orange cat is just that- 'orange' changes the meaning of 'cat' so we don't need to make a new word.

But we don't say 'war in which the opposite side is completely and utterly obliterated and murdered in cruel and unusual ways'. We just say _genocide_.

It makes me sick to think that Ishbal even happened. I can't imagine more than one horror like that ever happening in the history of the world, let alone a number even comparable to the number of orange cats in the world.

And I didn't even witness it firsthand. I heard a _story_, and thinking about how someone else _tells_ about these horrors nauseates me. I could probably never repeat what I just heard, even if someone else actually wanted to know.

I have to admire the Lieutenant, I really do. The fact that she saw all that, even took part in it, and can still pass for a sane human being… I can't comprehend it. I don't even know how she can talk about it. She just kept talking, even if I interrupted her, and her eyes were fixed on the tea in her cup. It was like I wasn't there, almost. Her voice showed absolutely no emotion, the tone completely flat and dead, though her hands were shaking and she would occasionally pause to take a few shaky breaths. She told me absolutely everything, made no effort at all to hide things or gloss over the gruesome details. It was scary, in a way, that her voice never betrayed any of the horror that she felt. I almost doubted she had any emotion at all about it, until afterwards when she looked me in the eyes and told me to never forget what I'd just heard. She looked at me with these eyes that weren't human, they were cold and haunted and full of regret. That must be what people call the eyes of a murderer. But mostly, I'm amazed that she relived her deepest horrors just so I could know. I never, ever could have done that, told someone about the night we tried to bring Mom back. I'd have rather died.

I think Mustang wanted to die for the horrors he committed. Maybe he still does. Although the Lieutenant didn't outright say it, she didn't deny it either. I understand now why he clammed up and got pissy whenever I asked about it. I understand, too, why he didn't want to tell me. In some weird kind of way, that he thinks he's protecting me by not talking about it. Actually, I doubt that's why, I know he doesn't want to talk about it because he doesn't want to think about it because he'll go insane if he does. I understand that. But the Lieutenant was the one who told me that it was partially to protect me. I think that's bullshit, but she knows that bastard better than I do. Hell, I would know someone inside-out too, if I'd been physically standing _in_ their shadow for the best part of eight years. And I have no idea what the damn guy thinks in the first place, except when he's thinking of battle strategies. That's the only time I know what the hell is going on in that inflated head of his. Bastard.

Well, he's still a bastard, but I have to respect him now, I guess, that he's still sane after all that. Even if 'sane' is a loose term in this case, I'm grudgingly forced to admit that he's a good man. And maybe, just maybe, I admire him.

But only a little. I still don't like him. I can hate him and admire him at the same time, right?


End file.
